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The Song Of The Old Mother

I RISE in the dawn, and I kneel and blow
Till the seed of the fire flicker and glow;
And then I must scrub and bake and sweep
Till stars are beginning to blink and peep;
And the young lie long and dream in their bed
Of the matching of ribbons for bosom and head,
And their day goes over in idleness,
And they sigh if the wind but lift a tress:
While I must work because I am old,
And the seed of the fire gets feeble and cold.

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Comments

  • laya
    June 10, 2005
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    rEADING OF THIS MAKES ME REALISE ALL THROUGH THE OLDER ONES R SLOGGING AND THE YOUGSTRS R LAZING.i SHUD STOP CRIBBING AGAINST MY YOUNG ONE